The Dog (pt 9)
Posted on | May 4, 2010 | Comments Off
She’d rushed out of the house so early this morning she’d forgotten all about Doone. He was waiting excitedly by the door, probably not so much to see her as to go out to do his business. He did, however, give her a quizzical look at her attire. She didn’t usually go out in her robe.
They came back in and she fixed them breakfast. She wasn’t sure she wanted to tell Doone where she had been, thinking her fragile sanity was best not shared with a talking dog. Then again, who better to share it with? She told the story of going to the Asylum, and the walls of tile that kind of freaked her out and then washed the dishes careful not to soak herself this time. Doone listened intently as if this was the most amazing story he’d ever heard. Or perhaps he was thinking about other things. Whatever the case, she was happy to have someone to talk to and babbled on for nearly an hour.
Doone seemed a bit mopey afterward so she offer to play but he just wanted to take a nap. She thought it wasn’t such a bad idea herself and decided to go up to her room and curl up with a book until she fell asleep. . .
Downstairs, Doone lay quietly planning out what he had to do. He’d need to get in contact with the Worm Guy to set things in motion. He thought it was time. This wasn’t going to be easy, but nothing worth doing ever was. . .
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